The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Look

It’s almost a shame she has to end her little game, Alice muses. Half the fun is watching her target respond to her mental nudges, and Kim...Kim has responded beautifully. Alice knew if she burrowed deep enough into Kim’s mind, she’d find some way around the 1,001 Reasons to be a Good Girl and 5,000 Ways to Maintain Guilt lessons Kim’s mother so effectively instilled in her darling daughter.

“It’s really nice of you to go dancing with me,” Kim says. “I used to go all the time back in Chicago.” She looks thoughtful and a little embarrassed. “I didn’t think I’d miss it this much. I mean...it’s just that I didn’t really go all the time back in Chicago. It was more like I went all the time because my friends were going, and they knew I’d be willing to stay sober for the drive home.”

“Well, this time I’ll stay sober,” Alice says, smiling brightly as she fans the idea she planted in Kim’s mind weeks ago: it’s fun to cut loose every once and awhile.

Kim blushes and looks away, mumbling something about how she doesn’t really expect to get drunk since they’ll be walking back to her apartment. Alice laughs and loops her arm around Kim’s shoulders. “Aren’t you just adorable?” she asks, pleased when Kim’s blush deepens.

“You’re teasing,” Kim says. Then, “It’s still really nice of you to come. I’d feel...vulnerable coming alone.”

Just the way she wants Kim, Alice muses. And then she smiles, remembering the memory she plundered from the girl’s mind during their first kickboxing class together—Kim on a crowded dance floor, eyes half closed, heavy bass pulsing through her. She wants to see Kim on the dance floor with her own eyes. She bets Kim will look fuckable with her dark hair clinging to neck, lips half-parted, hands running over her hips as she sways to the beat.

Or rather more fuckable. Kim is normally adorable, but tonight, she’s a 50’s pinup model complete with—Alice dips into Kim’s mind—yes, black stockings and a matching corselet. Oh. And no panties. Alice’s smile widens. Kim has responded beautifully to her mental nudges.

And Kim responds beautifully to the attention her unique attire brings. Her red afternoon tea dress with its flouncy swing skirt and wide neckline bow look out of place in contrast to the fishnet and leather, but Kim dances like everyone else.

She certainly provides the most alluring show. The way Kim’s skirt flares with every twist of her hips is flirtatious on its own. Add it to her coy smile and the dainty way she blushes and giggles behind a gloved hand in response to something her dance partner says, and Kim is the perfect image of a corruptible housewife.

Alice spends a good fifteen minutes just watching her. It’s selfish, she knows. She should be looking for Alan. This is his birthday present, after all, but she’s having too much fun watching Kim respond to her nudge to cut loose. Ah. She was right. Kim does look fuckable now that she’s worked up a bit of a sweat and a few strands of her dark hair have worked themselves loose from her perfect wave.

Oh, to see those stocking-clad legs slung over Alan’s shoulders. Alice spends some time with that mental image, and apparently it serves as a beacon, because the next thing she knows, Alan is standing beside her, Corona in hand.

“Is that for me?” he asks, gesturing towards Kim. She has her back to her current partner and is grinding against him, one gloved hand snaked around his neck.

“Mmmm,” Alice says, swiping his beer. “Happy birthday.”

“You wrapped her up with a bow?” Alan asks with a laugh that’s lost in the noise.

Alice slides up against him, careful to keep the beer out of his reach. “She dressed herself, actually. I’m glad she did. I would have put her in leather, but she’s much more appealing like this, yes?”

Alan licks his lips. “Yes.”

She clamps down on the urge to give him a needy kiss. It’s too soon for that kind of fun. He still has his present to enjoy, after all. She settles for snuggling closer and giving him a playful nip beneath the ear before saying, “She’s not wearing panties.”

Alan’s eyes drop to Kim’s waist. “Oh?”

Alice smiles and leans up on tiptoe to kiss her husband’s cheek. “Have fun.”

He looks startled. “You’re not going to join?”

“Later.” She takes another pull of his beer. “Can’t waste a good Corona.”

He smiles at that. “Especially one I paid for.”

“It’s the least you can do since I got you such a nice present.” She leans back against the bar. “Gift wrapped, even.”

His smile as he gazes at Kim is predatory. Alice settles into place to watch as he saunters out onto the dance floor. It’s almost a shame she has to end her little cat-and-mouse game with Kim’s mind tonight. Almost. The fact that Alan likes his gift sends a bolt of pleasure straight to her cunt, and the growing heat is as wonderful as the thrill she gets when she tweaks someone’s mind.

And speaking of tweaking...best to make sure Alan can enjoy his present. Alice slips into Kim’s mind and is surprised to find she doesn’t need to give Alan much assistance. Kim’s caught up in the moment and breaks away from her current partner on her own, placing a teasing kiss on his cheek with the comment, “The night’s too young to tie myself to one partner, darling.”

Cheeky. Alice feels another bolt of pleasure, this one centering on her breasts, and it takes her a moment to realize she’s feeling Kim’s response to Alan’s invitation to dance. Perfect. She plays up Kim’s lust and withdraws from the girl’s mind, content to watch from a distance.

Alice slowly sips the rest of the Corona, enjoying the way Kim rubs against Alan, the way his hands dominate her narrow waist, the sharp contrast Kim’s black gloves make against Alan’s white shirt.

Alan’s watching her from the floor, the heat of his gaze almost tangible. She raises the nearly empty Corona bottle in a salute and sends him an image of Kim, clad only in her corselet and stockings, sucking his cock.

Touch

The lengths Alice went to in order to make forty one hell of a birthday are flattering. His present is a fucking wet dream, and the way she responds to his touch makes Alan think his wife has been working on her for at least three months.

At least.

He looks over at Alice leaning against the bar and making the Corona last as long as possible. Only the tiniest of squirms betrays her arousal. He has to admire her patience. Were their roles reversed, he’d have joined her on the dance floor long ago.

Alice raises the bottle in a salute, and Alan is greeted with the image of his present, clad in black stocking and a black strapless corselet, kneeling in front of him, working his cock with those luscious red lips. He feels his cock harden in response to the image...and the twist of his present’s hips beneath his hands.

He can’t send images like Alice, but he’s more than capable of conveying his impatience. He likes the dancing, no doubt about that, but if Alice is going to tease him with sex, he’d like to skip to the real foreplay. Left to her own devices, Alice would drag this out until closing time. She can do that on her birthday, not his.

He can feel Alice’s laughter in his mind. He considers conveying his annoyance—it’s not polite to laugh at the birthday boy—but Alice is snaking through the crowd on the dance floor, as brazen as the first time he’d seen her almost twenty years ago. Fuck, has it really been that long? It’s hard to believe. Alice is still gorgeous, still dangerous, and he’s...well, he’s still able to hold her attention, and still able to hold his own against her.

He pulls his present closer, sliding a thigh between her legs. She shimmies against it with a satisfied little hum he feels beneath the hand pressed firm between her shoulder blades. How old is she? It’s hard to tell in the light and her getup. Anywhere from twenty-five to thirty-five. A damn hot twenty-five to thirty-five. Alice has really outdone herself.

He lets his impressed approval seep over to Alice. She acknowledges it with a wicked grin and bats away an invitation to dance from, as she would say, a particularly fine specimen of brainless brawn. The kid looks like he’s going to insist. Alan bites down on his “mine, you little shit” reaction and instead redirects said little shit’s attention to a leggy redhead a few feet behind Alice.

It’s his birthday. He can be generous.

Alice presses up against his present’s back. “You like dancing with my husband?”

His present’s reaction is something to savor. Her eyes snap open, and she tries to jerk back, but between Alice and his hands, she’s trapped. Her hands are splayed out over Alan’s chest, warm through the fabric of her gloves and his shirt. She looks at them, then drags her gaze up to his face, her expression horrified and quizzical. He doesn’t need to have any special abilities to follow her thoughts. She’s not a homewrecker. She’d never knowingly go for a married man. She’s a good girl, but damn, being sandwiched like this is fucking hot!

Alice nuzzles her neck. “It’s all right. I’ve liked watching the two of you.” She reaches around the girl and strokes Alan through his pants. “And he’s liked it, too. It’s his birthday, you see. I want him to enjoy himself.” She cups his present’s breast with her other hand, tracing slow circles around her nipple. “Don’t you?”

His present’s lips are parted, her eyes half-closed under Alice’s ministrations. “Yes.”

“Good,” Alice purrs. “He’d like us to take this home. You want to come, don’t you?”

“Yes,” his present moans, sliding along his thigh.

They maneuver her out to the car. Alice herds her into the back seat. Alan almost asks his wife to come up front with him, but then he hears his present’s needy, helpless moan as—he glances in the rearview mirror—Alice presses her flat against the seat, nibbling along her collarbone just above the bow on her dress.

His present is a quiet one. Her quick, breathless gasps paired with Alice’s shameless moans go straight to his cock, and it takes all of his willpower to keep his eyes mostly on the road. The times Alan’s eyes stray to the rearview mirror, he’s presented with a perfect show. Alice removing her present’s gloves with her teeth. Alice unzipping his present’s dress and peeling it off her. Alice fingering his present, making her come in harsh, clipped gasps. Alice fucking his present’s mouth with slick fingers.

It’s the last bit that undoes him. Watching his present suck her juices off Alice’s fingers is a thousand times better than the images Alice used to tease him. He’s amazed he doesn’t crash the car because he can hardly take his eyes off the rearview mirror.

Once they’re home, Alice leads his present out of the car. Alan’s tempted to force his present to her knees right there in the garage but figures he can wait until they’re inside. Besides, Alice is already halfway to the door, his present in tow.

“You’re going to look gorgeous sucking his cock,” Alice says, reaching behind her for the doorknob.

His present bobs her head, still sucking Alice’s fingers.

“Bet you can’t wait.”

Alan can’t tell if Alice’s comment is directed at him or at his present. They both nod. His present whimpers.

Alice’s low, jagged laugh makes his present’s whimpers take on a more pleading tone. They’re inside now. Alice leads his present a few steps into the family room and then pushes her to her knees.

From behind, Alan watches his present pant. Alice looks down at her, proud and possessive and flushed with pleasure. Alan leans against the door, stroking himself slowly through his pants. Dilemmas, dilemmas. Who to fuck first? His present or his wife?

Alice decides for him, lifting her chin to give him a sultry look. “I know it’s your birthday, but I really do want to see her suck your cock.” She twines her hand in his present’s dark hair, forcing her head back. “Mmmm. I’d love to hold her for you, watch you fuck this pretty little mouth.” She kisses the girl, hard and sloppy, with a shameless, whorish moan.

“Oh god,” his present pants when Alice withdraws.

The little plea almost makes him come. Alan groans, barely hearing it over the blood pounding in his ears. His reply comes out ragged. “How can I resist?”

Taste

It’s too much, Kim thinks, as Alice kisses her. No, as Alice takes her mouth. This isn’t a kiss. It’s too hard, too demanding, too full. She can’t breathe, doesn’t want to breathe, really, just wants to take Alice in as deep as she’ll go, wants to drink in Alice’s sharp taste, wants to feel the fingers in her hair tighten even more.

Anything to make the little voice saying, “This isn’t right. They’re married, you little slut!” shut up.

The little voice sounds far too much like her mother. So what if they are married? They’re both here, both willing.

And oh god, she’s willing. More willing than she’s ever been.

“You were raised to be a good girl, not a good slut. Where’s your backbone?”

Back on the dance floor, mother. Kim tries to rouse some regret, but finds her sudden change in character oddly liberating. Regret, she decides, can’t come until she does. Twice.

Alice breaks the kiss. “Oh god,” Kim says, breathless and more than half dazed. She can still taste herself, faintly, beneath the traces of Alice.

She can hear the husband—No need to learn his name, another little voice says—groan behind her. “How can I resist?” he says, and the ragged need in his voice makes her pussy ache and her nipples tighten.

She doesn’t pay too much attention to the maneuvering until the husband—Owner, the new little voice corrects. You’re his present—is standing before her, his cock hard and flushed and already wet with precum.

Yes, his present. She takes him in her mouth, guided by Alice’s hands in her hair.

And it’s good. So good. He tastes sharp like Alice, but with a musky, wholly male underbite. She can’t help her needy moan.

He’s relentless, selfish in his pleasure. Her gagging doesn’t deter him, just makes him push deeper into her throat. She feels her tears hot on her cheeks, and it sends a shuddering thrill through her pussy, because she can imagine how she must look, gagging around his cock with smeared lipstick and bleeding mascara.

“Like a slut,” her mother-voice says, disapproving. “Like a horny, little slut.”

Big slut, mother.

She fondles his balls with one hand, relishing their softness. She wishes he’d let up a little so she could nuzzle and lick them, but, as the new wise voice in her head reminds her, she is his present, not the other way around. Still, that shouldn’t stop her from enjoying herself she thinks as she fingers herself with her other hand.

“Oh, fuck yes.” He grabs her shoulders, for support, Kim thinks, because he widens his stance. “Like that.”

Alice purrs, “Yes, just like that. Oh, you should see yourself, trying so hard to keep up. It feels perfect, doesn’t it?”

Kim mews an acknowledgement. Almost perfect. Almost. Something is missing, but it’s something she could provide, and then it would be perfect. Perfect for him, which would make it perfect for her.

Of course!

She withdraws her hand from her pussy and reaches around to circle his hole with a slick finger. He groans. It’s enough of an invitation for Kim. She slides her finger into him and strokes the flesh between his balls and ass with her other hand.

“Fuck yes!”

Now it’s perfect.

She comes with him, much to her surprise. Giving head had always felt like a chore, so to actually come?

“Filthy, filthy slut,” her mother-voice says, louder now.

The shame should detract from her pleasure, but she’s still basking in the afterglow. The husband is half-slumped against her, and her head is cradled in the hollow of his hip. Behind her, Alice is panting like she’s come, too.

Kim works the ache out of her jaw, feeling out-of-sorts. Had she really just...? And in the car, had she really let Alice...? And, oh god, in the club had she really ridden his leg like some sex-starved...?

“I’m sorry,” she says, settling back on her heels. She instantly regrets it. Her knees start to burn the moment she eases the pressure off them.

“Sorry?” Alice’s hands twitch in Kim’s hair.

“I’m not usually such...I mean, I don’t...I’m not a slut!”

Alice’s laugh is more of a purr than anything else. “Of course you’re not.”

Relief almost gives Kim another orgasm, but then Alice chuckles and guides Kim to the floor. The husband kneels between Kim’s legs, pulling them out from under her and spreading them open over his thighs.

“You’re our plaything,” Alice continues. She kneels on Kim’s arms, pinning them, and dips her hands beneath Kim’s corselet to tease her breasts.

Kim’s bolt of fear flashes between her stomach, pussy, and nipples. She struggles against Alice. “No, wait, I—”

Alice’s husband slides two fingers into Kim’s pussy. Her protest is cut off with a gasp.

“Our plaything,” Alice repeats. The remorseless look in Alice’s eyes makes Kim shudder. At least, that’s what Kim tells herself, because admitting it’s the insistent fingers in her pussy and electrifying hands on her breasts is too...dirty.

Alice smiles, and it makes Kim feel like a mouse to Alice’s cat. “Or rather you will be once you’ve come again, right baby?” Her gaze flickers to her husband.

His fingers don’t miss a stroke. “You’d make this one permanent?”

“No!” Kim tells herself she’s struggling, not helping. She’s pinned. She’s not really arching up into their combined touch, not really rolling her hips in the hope of garnering some attention to her clit.

“Mmmm. Decades are milestones. Happy birthday, baby.”

The hand in Kim’s pussy hesitates for a moment. It gives her a tiny sliver of hope. He’ll refuse the gift!

But then he curls his fingers, hitting Kim’s g-spot, and traces a slow, teasing circle around her clit with his thumb. “Makes me look forward to fifty.”

Kim’s wailing protest is more of a moan as Alice leans down to kiss her. Then it doesn’t matter because she’s exploding against her owners’ hands and drinking in the possessive kiss, and she figures being their plaything isn’t bad if she gets to come like this.